Chapter 7: Death Maze

The walking wounded like myself who voluntarily returned to the company in the coming days were greeted with obscene jokes and cheers on our return, though there were a hoof full who didn't have a choice and just put up with the antics of their fellow brothers and sisters. Our numbers were bolstered again up but just, our replacements would not arrive for some time and we had to make do with few that we had left. The Captain broke the news to us that we would be returning to Snowdrop Forest, reports of zebra reinforcements were confirmed and were giving our troops a hard time. The news was naturally met with little enthusiasm. We responded by swearing and cursing the zebras, we wanted nothing more than to get it over with and to get even by killing every last one that we laid eyes on just for making our lives miserable for the past two weeks.

It would take another two days until we were given the go ahead on for the operation. Till then we sat around on stand by in our tents and did anything to keep our minds occupied from the frustrations of the grunt's life. After I had squared away my gear and restocked my aid bag from supply, I then would go and check in on friends on what mischief they would cook up. I entered to find to the smell of cigarettes, sweat, cheap alcohol and of all things ejaculating semen in the confines of the platoon tent. The small group of bucks in corner were having a competition on who could jerk off the quickest. A soldier with a mail box of letters followed me in and the site didn't phase her in the slightest. She hoofed out the mail making comments about that their mare friends were screwing some other buck. The guys smirked and gave her a wink in the hopes that she would taking a liking to one of them and have a little fun before our send off, she swished her tail at them and left just as soon as she came in. The obscenity of the episode was a common occurrence to her that this was just another day on the job. One of the mares in the platoon levitated a letter from a stallions grip and preceded to read the whole thing aloud in an overly dramatic tone as the poor buck's face began to burn red in embarrassment. Who ever his filly friend was surely knows how make things interesting in the bedroom. Two did have the unfortunate news that their wives or girlfriends had left them for another stallion. The news struck them down that one lashed out in anger, cursing and thrashing as his buddy tried to calm him down resulting in fight. He was pinned to the ground and he broke into a sobbing mess. The other stood up and walked out out the tent, the mood now soured as we tried to console the soldier. The other stallion we caught attempting to shoot himself with his rifle when I had asked where he had gone. He was taken away to the hospital and we never saw him again. This was the reality that is uncomfortable for civilians to comprehend about their soldiers. All they see was the nice attractive clean cut look of our lives while we live the ugly truth of it all however dark, and obscene, and emotionally taxing it may be for each and every one of us

We squared away our gear for the last time after morning formation before boarding the trucks to that would take us to an OP. Buck, Jazz, Daisy and I drew boxes of ammo for the platoon, another team boxes of MREs. With Lemon Squeeze gone, Daisy would now act as assistant gunner while Jazz and I hump the extra ammo, Buck took command of the fire team. I technically wasn't part of the team but I had stuck close by with them during maneuvers and engagements that I was let in on the circle. My position during patrols was always always by the RTO next to the tactical commander but I always found myself hunkering down with Buck and his team. The SAW was a force multiplier and when deployed can either mean superior fire for our troops to flank and and kill the enemy. On the other hoof, he was a target for snipers, once the gunner is down the ponies he or she was supporting will lose the cover they need to get the enemy safely. Buckminster was a pony with a crude, mostly sardonic sense of humour who knew this job well and we could depend on him.

We boarded the trucks by mid morning and we rode the two mile long journey from the outskirts of Stalliongrad to the Outpost just before the woods. Our approach was to be on the western side again but the route would differ slightly this time. Instead going directly to the hill, the 184th would secure the road further to the north and encircle the zebras in a pocket. Pegasi scouts had sighted that the section we would be entering was heavily defended, not to our surprise. What did was the 42nd armour rolling up the road to lend a hoof after returning from a campaign in the Zebra Lands, they even offered us a ride on the tanks. The assembly of firepower and machinery on our side was hoped would deter any further resistance. Even the use of leaflets scattered by the 1st Sky Corps informing the zebras of their current situation and begged them to surrender or face annihilation, they answered in defiance of a round of an 80 mm shell. For the second time, we entered in to that dark forest in the chilly autumn morning.

The tanks we escorted into the woods was just as unique and battle crazed as we were, they each had names and artwork painted on their sides. They all had their signature 75 mm bore main cannon, later variants were upgraded to the 76. Aside from the main gun, atop the turret was a .50 cal machine gun, others had the MK19 grenade launcher. The fire power they boasted was enough to make any grunt happy to have even just one along with them. As power armour became introduced as a main stay of Equestrian might carrying just as deadly amount of firepower, the older model tanks were replaced with a newer, bigger, stronger tank sporting 105's to support them.

The lead tank was the wildest of the bunch, the other tank crews groaned and rolled their eyes as it drove pass spurting out smoke and fumes as it made its way to the front. This led to one of the more interesting exchanges when it comes to complaining about our bosses. Buck's fire team climbed aboard first with myself, the squad leader and the radio operator climbed up afterwards. The tank commander sneered and shaking his head at the lead tank and gave the command to the driver to move forward. The tank lurched as the fumes of the smoke increased with each effort of treads to grip the muddy road. We grabbed on to anything would get our hooves hooked to as to not roll off. Buck moved more closer to the tank's commander to ask him about the odd curiosity that is the tank leading the whole column.

"Hey chief, what the fuck is up with lead tank, with all the bull horns and skulls and shit. Do they think that's going to scare the zebs?" Buckminster put in his keen observation.

"He ain't Appleloosan that's for sure. Dude's major fucking nuts. We checked on this hamlet two weeks ago and they go in fucking guns blazing to show off like their fucking cowponies and shit, just for fun. Not an enemy zebra soldier onsite, just scared farmers and cattle. They ended up killing a bull, skinned it for the bones and put it on the tank. Thinking it's the funniest thing ever."

The tank commander put in.

"They've got to be colossally retarded" I added.

"How the hell did those mother fuckers got away with it, wouldn't that be grounds for a UCMJ or something?" Buck asked.

"Beats me, I don't know how my officers can get away with dumb shit. Anyways, command wants all our tanks to be scary and mean looking. Some shit like that. We haven't been shot at once when we were over there and they already lobbed twelve mk19 rounds to blow up one fucking bull."

"Dear Celestia" Jazzlight said and couldn't help but snicker.

"A part of me hopes that the LT buys it. If anynypony is going to get me and my crew killed. It's him"
We all busted out laughing, the sentiment was mutual. We were fortunate to have decent commanders in the company who actually knew what they were doing. Being ordered to charge in mass on a heavily fortified position several times with little to no success was simply a waste. Col. Sallet was a brave and charismatic commander who always placed the mission first before his own safety and who had earned the admiration of the soldiers beneath him. No doubt he was one of the best commanders of the early defensive campaigns in the war, only to give way to over confidence in his own troops abilities to do the impossible. The resulting cost was his life leading a futile effort and the waste of lives.

A burst of automatic fire snapped over by us from the woods at our left front. We quickly disembarked off the tank and took cover in the ditch by road. The lead tank spotted the nest and fired a round into it, the sand bag bunker burst and imploded followed by a hail of red tracers from machine guns. In the smoke landed the thumping sounds of the machine grenade launcher and a spectacular display of explosions and clouds of smoke.

"Wooooooooooo! GOT SOME! Did you SEE THAT" A yell came from lead tank.

We looked up at the commander of our tank, he gave us a shrug and rolled his eyes. I got up from the ditch and looked around. The entire company was now on alert and peering over to see what had happened. It was quiet as soon as the ambush had ended. A squad from Delta was sent on ahead to probe for anymore trouble that was ahead of us. A short while after they came back and were nearly shot by the lead tank with grenades, they fortunately landed short and our guys radioed in to cease firing on them.

"Anyone hit?" I called out.

"I think they're good but those zebras are surely all fucked up beyond all repair." Daisy commented.

Captain Silver Mane approached the lead tank to inquire on what had happened. An argument ensued that our position had been compromised and that every gun on the hill would rain down on us. The whole episode looked like it came from a bad movie, even Silver Mane looked like he was tempted to shoot the tank commander. We waited and watched on what would happen next for several agonising moments. After it was concluded that the enemy had better things to do than to shoot at tanks bogged down on a Linear Danger Area, the lead tank revved its engines and drove off down the road and column continued, we got up and followed in along side.

"Okay you ponies, grab your gear and stand by to move out"

We had escorted the tanks north and round the hill until there were no more good roads to complete the encirclement with out having to stop to cut the trees to make way for the armour. They would have to find another through while we would have to continue on hoof alone until we could find a point where we can rendezvous with them. The order was sent to move on ahead, we spread ourselves out in open patrol order to move deeper into the woods as the rest of the regiment arrived. We dug in for the night under canvas covering our fox holes as the rain began to pour in. We were just getting comfortable when we were given the order.

"Damn it all. And in this rain too." Remarked a buddy.

"Something must have happened" I said, hoping that it wasn't serious.

It turned out to be just that. Reports came in that there was an unidentified movement making their way around our position heading south using the darkness and rain for cover. Alpha company had radioed in the report but did not engage in fear of shooting their own troops. By the time somepony from 2nd Battalion replied our position which was not in anyway where Alpha and Bravo had thought we were, the mass of movement had already slipped by and was long gone. 1st and 2nd platoons were sent out to investigate the matter since 1st Battalion was to our left and the closest ponies to the unidentified movement that passed through would be us. We left the cover of our holes and assembled under the open rain and sky as we waited for our officers. The combination of the cold rain and thick wood made our environment so dark that we couldn't see anything very well nor hear anything beyond the rustling of tress and and drops of rain. Instead of waiting for first light, command and their infinite wisdom ordered us to continue advancing around the hill to investigate. More likely it was that we would run into them or to cut off what had passed us by. What won us some respect for the acting battalion commander was that she tried to argue in her opinion that the current weather conditions would make it difficult to move a large body of ponies in a hazardous environment laden with possible traps and enemy emplacements. The general wouldn't have it so we begrudgingly carried on the mission. We couldn't form open wedges because we couldn't see very well let alone keep track of the point pony. We had not yet been issued any Night Optic Devices, so we had to perform the hoof patrol in a road march formation.

"Bite down on the tail of the pony in front of you and don't let go unless you want to get lost. We'll approach slowly and quietly."

We did as ordered, I bit down on the tail of the soldier and another bit down on mine. Each pony was formed into a chain as we surged forward. It had been several days since any of us had a good bath, the tail i was biting down tasted like mouldy hay, I could only imagine the state of mine as well. The heavy down pour that managed to pierce the thick tops of the trees gave us a much needed but cold bath. In a little while it soaked through our uniforms and into the bone, my teeth chattered with the sound muffled by the tail in my grasp. We marched slowly forward and then up a gentle slope that only got steeper and more rugged as we kept going, the rain continued to pour on soaking us and the the ground beneath us. A pony somewhere in front of me slipped, losing his grip and slid down taking many with him including myself. The line had to stop all progress so we could get back in order to continue. After a couple more slipping and sliding incidents, the platoon commander radioed in to request that we stop until the weather clears or when it was more visible. At the rate we were going we wouldn't reach the bottom of the hill anytime soon and trudging forward would probably get us lost or somepony hurt. We got the word that we could stay put and we made as ourselves as comfortable as possible where ever we could on the cold wet ground. The commanders looked over their maps and broke the news to the squad leads, from them to us in the ranks.

"We're not making much progress in this down pour, and it looks like we may have veered of course. The brass allowed us to keep tight here. Lights out everyone, if you got to smoke, make sure you over it up."

The soldier in front of me passed me a cigarette, he knew I was shivering cold from the chattering on his tail. I took it earnestly, if it would keep me warm or my nerves I was willing. I had never smoked before and I coughed when I inhaled the smokey fume. The pony patted me on the back, smiled and lit his own. We would wait for day break, it was a long night which yielded little sleep from the cold, and rain, mixed with bitter annoyance and fear.

Dawn came three hours later. The rain didn't stop but it had let up and the morning fog rolled in. Feeling like I had a cold coming, I curled up next to a tree as a buddy warmed up some coffee from my MRE bag. I drank it slowly and took off my packs to relax more. Just as soon as I did we got the order to move out, moving further deeper into the woods and manuever around the trees as quietly as we could. It had turned out that we had veered off course and further away from the hill than intended. There was no sign of enemy presence nearby on our patrol, they had covered their tracks well that there were no hoof prints in the mud aside from ours. Instead of doubling back we were given the go ahead to continue on as the rest of the battalion caught up and the engineers and tankers make their way around to our rendezvous point.

The fog began to lift before noon and the rain soon after, we could now see that damned hill now to our right. Now we were in clear view from above we fanned out into an open wedge formation and continued the mission. After another hour of patrolling we made it to an open patch with a trail which we hoped would lead to where we were to meet up with the tanks, a fire team with a radio pony had been sent forward to scout what was up ahead. The response that they've found something was an eruption of a firefight. The two platoons rushed forward to support the ponies ahead of us, and what they came across was a well concealed bunker that had built into the side of large mound of earth and rock. The team had sustained a casualty, her friends rushed her out as soon as they got the upper hoof in suppressing the bunker and brought her to me. Fortunately the wound wasn't fatal, I gave her the healing potion from her aid kit and she was back in the fight as soon as the wound was closed. The bunker doubled down and laid a heavy spray of machine gun fire, there was no sign of infantry outside to challenge us so the bunker was the only target.

I peeked up my head a few inches to get a better look, the zebra machine gunner spotted me at that moment and swivelled the barrel towards me and fired a burst at my direction. I was faster, I ducked down so fast that my helmet floated for a moment and flopped back down on my head as the slugs zipped and snapped over my rock cover. Buck looked at me in amusement.

"Don't lose your head so recklessly like that" He smirked and continued to fire his light machine gun at the gun port.

His efforts seemed to work as the fire from the bunker had lulled, with this opportunity the ponies were able to move up closer to knock out the bunker. They threw in grenades in hoping that'll silence it. It did not, the machine gun ports fired up again and rifle slugs shot out from the holes to the outside. More grenades were thrown with the same result as the muffled bangs followed with smoke and concussion escaped its insides. Like a wounded beast they shot out again with angry yells from within, determining to stay a live or take as many of us with them. A team of ponies had forgone using any more grenades and began firing directly into any openings they could find to suppress the zebras inside. A grenade blast suddenly came from the outside and cry of a wounded pony, a zebra managed to throw one out and was shot dead but not before he was able to lob the ball of death. I saw this unfold before my eyes and I rushed in on the double to get the wounded pony out of the immediate danger. His foreleg was bloodied and peppered with fragments, he had used it to shield his face from the grenade. I strapped a tourniquet on the leg to stop the bleeding and I proceeded to drag the stallion out of the way using the mass amount of firepower being dumped inside the bunker as cover when a yell came behind me.

"Clear the bunker damn it"

A pony with a rocket launcher sighted her piece right in front of me at bunker. I dashed a quick look, our guys were making themselves scarce behind any cover they could find. I looked down at my wounded buddy and dove over to cover him as well as clearing away from her shot. A swoosh and a bang, the bunker blew up chunks in a cloud of fire, smoke, dirt and stone in all directions. The zebras inside muffled out screams followed by yells of Caesar, about four of them emerged from the blasted sections to charge at us. The concussion from the grenades and the rocket launcher had disorientated them, blood was leaking from their ears, muzzles and opened wounds as they staggered their way towards us. They were shot down as soon as they emerged. In a last desperate stand, the machine gun fired again. In came more grenades, a muffled bang followed by rifle fire and it was over. It lasted only minutes with the zebra dead counted 12 and only 2 of our own wounded with one unable to continue. I was given the chance to enter the bunker to find any zebra wounded as soon as it was cleared and safe. The inside of the bunker led into an under ground dug out with sturdy planked walls where it made it possible for the zebras to retreat behind for cover from the grenades.

The soldiers began to strip the dead of anything valuable for souvenirs; bayonets, knives, watches, personal affects with such casualness brought about from the constant frustrations with our command and the enemy that I began to wonder if I too would become callus to desecrate the dead . Once they were cleaned out, a burial detail was ordered much to the annoyance of the soldiers who had to go risk their lives to kill them. The brass believes that showing that the dead on both sides are taken cared of with some level of respect would remind us that we were still civilised. After the burial was completed we gathered our gear and waited for the rest of the company who were not too far behind. We transferred the wounded stallion to the pegasi Medevac and waited to establish comms with the tank column. The rest of the day had been quiet and uneventful of any enemy action as we patrolled for any more emplacements that would inhibit our movement, to be honest after that short action we were getting more bored and annoyed with the hide and seek.

Our routine of the encirclement of Hill 300 was to probe for defences that consisted of the endless patrols up and down the slopes and ridges, navigating the mazes of the rock features and downed trees while getting shot at a near constant daily occurrence. When the enemy had found us, it was almost always an ambush in difficult terrain which favoured the defenders. By the time we would reach them to engage in close combat on our terms, the zebras would flee and engage us else where. The bravery of the ponies who managed an approach close enough to dig out the zebra legionaries with rifles, grenades, hoof to hoof could not be understated as each act had expose themselves to great risk to themselves. Their daring display of heroism under fire had effectively saved the lives of their buddies to kill the enemy. Some had been recognised with awards and medals, many posthumously. Recognition for heroic acts was never on mind with any of us, but I can speak for my comrades that for each other we whatever it took for each other.

With each advance we made that tightened the noose, they got meaner and more desperate in any effort to stall for time. The zebras would intentionally target the wounded, then make it hell for anypony to evacuate them. A litter team takes two to four ponies to manage unless they were a unicorn with strong enough telekinesis to carry the pony to safety. It was daunting, back breaking work, if our balance is off the casualty was likely to roll off the litter. Many times we had to lift the damned things higher exposing the wounded pony to dangerous cross fire just to level it over the constant steep terrain while being careful not to trip ourselves. All the while dodging bullets aimed directly at us. The zebras had no problem sniping a wounded pony on the litter, they were easy targets. As soon as the casualty had been shot the sniper then would shoot the litter team. When one or more had been hit, the team falls apart and now had to be evacuated themselves. As soon as a fire team had established a good base of cover fire, the word for a medic up front was almost guaranteed to be called to get them to cover to render aid and pull them out of the fight. As soon as the casualty had been evacuated we returned to duty and the whole thing started all over again. The routine was always the same: long monotony mixed with a short burst of excitement and terror. I couldn't count the many times I had rushed back and forth from the moving front lines, it was a like constant ritual from day to day up to a week. It must have been fifty, a hundred, I had been so dulled into a haze that each turn blended with others.

The dead were beginning to pile up. The space for them was ever decreasing as the grind continued on, many were left where they fell and left for the quarter master to take care of. The long drawn out match had made us numb to the dead around us, it was only a matter of time until our luck would run out. It would always saddened us to see one of own left to the elements, but the zebras we couldn't care less and became just another part of the scenery. Every time we marched back up to the lines I would see a passed by body start fresh, then began to swell and bloat, maggot ridden and progressively down almost bone and torn equipment. The smell was awful, my surroundings where ever I went hung the stench of the unburied corpses, feces and other things left unattended that would leave a smell. In a camping trip, a pony could just relieve themselves out in nature behind a tree or bush, if lucky to have a shovel, trowel and alike to bury it. However for us, just leaving to go do our business in the front out in the open is likely to get one killed. We had to take care of it however we could without exposing ourselves. The best case was to find a small hole, more unorthodox methods like using empty rations bags when lucky to have one. More often we had to move our bowels where we sat. Contamination quickly became another problem as we couldn't get ourselves properly cleaned. Many of the soldiers were taken out of the fight by disease, those just well enough to still cradle their weapon were returned to duty. The poor bucks and fillies couldn't hold themselves together and soiled their trousers. They complained and were teased about it, but they still continued on until they became too weak to continue.

When I had smelt death before, it was a horrid putrefying odour that made me vomit the first time, now I was amongst it like it was a constant companion. Our nostrils could't very well adapt to it, since it was around us we just had to get use to it. The crisp air of the fall season couldn't erase it and just became another nuisance we had to deal with. We all wanted to get out of this horrifying place but went back in with no question. We lived in fear and filth for a length of time that no one would ever dream of and yet it was our reality.

Supply was slow, as new trucks and carts came in, they were immediately unloaded and loaded again with the dead and wounded. I can only commend those ponies for their efforts to get what we needed to stay in the fight. They never complained that their job was hard, those who did took one look at any of us and continued on mission to get in and out as soon as they could. The engineers cleared away pockets of trees just far enough away from the fighting where the pegasi can airlift supplies faster than on hoof.

"Hey we got food and ammo for Delta" A pegasus called out one afternoon.
Myself, Jazzlight and SFC. Plaid Piper were ordered to secure our much needed supplies. We watched in anxious anticipation as the mare dodged bullets from below while trying to keep the cargo in one piece. The sky cart took a hit and trailed smoke and it looked like it was going to take the pegasus down with it. She dropped below the tree line in what would spell her doom. We heard snapping of branches anticipating the inevitable and we cheered when she crashed through the trees and landed in front of us. The red pegasus dusted herself with her wings and began to wave off the smoke.

"Smooth landing lass" Said Plaid Piper to the flyer.

"Yup that was a close call, is it just you guys in this sector?"

"We're moving out again soon, so these supplies will help us a great deal."

One look at the cart we winced. The wings had nearly was riddled with holes and the left repulsor was shot to pieces. The mare bucked it clean off surprisingly cutting off the smoke.

"It won't be as stable in the air but it can still fly"

We began taking out the ammo cans and boxes. I was surprised to find a mail bag stuffed in the corner that was addressed to our battalion, we didn't get much mail at front but when we did it was always a treasured moment to hear from our folks back home. Jazz's magic took over the heavier loads as I hoofed the bag to the platoon sergeant and continued to help sort out the supplies. Only one medical supply box and a new type of rolled up plastic litter was there for me to scavenge up.

"Is this it?" I asked.

"Yeah, most of the meds are being diverted over yonder. Looks like something big is going to happen." She pointed a wing tip to where the other regiments were.

"Alright lassy, you're clear." Plaid called out when the cart was fully unloaded.

"I can get your wounded." What followed after those words were a couple bangs of mortars. We ducked behind the cart, the fragments pinged against the metal hull but didn't do much than a scratch.

"Um... No, with the state of your sky carriage and it being a huge target for snipers will only be an unnecessary risk for those inside." I replied.

"The supply chain is a charlie foxtrot just getting up here. Yes, it's a huge risk but I can get them out faster."
I looked to the pegasus and then to Plaid Piper. The sergeant nodded.

"We're going to have to be quick. Those mortars could zero down at us any moment now."
He hopped to on the double and brought as many of the wounded aboard. Some were a little hesitant when they saw the shot up wings.

"What do you expect? A hot air balloon, no wait that might actually be worst. Hope you enjoy the flight." She blurted.

"Dust off lassy you're clear" Plaid called out, the pegasus nodded and shot into the sky and as far away from the immediate combat air space as much as her wings could take. Rifle fire shot up but fortunately missed their mark as she flew out range and disappeared into the low clouds.

Complete encirclement took nearly three weeks of wading in the mud, rain and filth. The surviving zebra soldiers were pushed back on to the hill itself cut off from any supply chain they may have had let alone a means of escape. They would now be subjected to endless bombardment before the ground and air forces supported by tanks were sent in to submit them to surrender or death.

We were recovering in the rear awaiting orders to return back to the front. Every five days to a week each company would take their turn on a section in the front while the former is kept in reserve to rest and then be rotated to another sector. This short respite allowed every soldier to unwind a little which kept up our fighting spirit in some level of intact. The weeks prior had worn down even the most hardiest of soldiers. When it was Delta's turn to take over for Hotel, a gentle snow fall began to cover the ground beneath us. We hadn't been issued our winter gear yet as supply had been run dry and it was already difficult as it was to bring vehicles to and fro that narrow mud logged road. We relieved Company H in the afternoon and we settled in their old fox holes. I had to remain near the company C.P since I was still the only surviving medic of company. By then I was made an acting senior for the new replacement medic that was suppose to arrive.

I was called to the company's C.P, Captain Silver Mane was there waiting for me. He had hot coffee being made on his portable stove. He offered me a cup and with the coming winter, I gladly accepted. Then came the part why I was called over, he wished to speak to me in personally. As personally as things could get, the radio op was still there and the L.Ts and sergeants hung about, none payed me no mind.

"The replacements are coming today" He said, he still gave me a gentle smile but his eyes betrayed him. He continued on. The news was welcomed but he knew I wasn't going to like what he had to say to me.

"Many of theses fillies and colts are still green, young, and scared. We're finally getting the replacement medics from HHC to help you out. Everypony will depend on them to be there for them when they get hit or for comfort, guidance, and you've done a good job at it."

I nodded but said nothing. I was having a feeling that I wasn't going to like what he had next to say.

"You're going to be acting in charge of the new medics, the medical officer notified me on the net. You're the veteran so naturally they're going to look to you until the senior doc is sent in. I know you don't know much about leading a team, but you've done well under stress, and that everypony here trusts you."

I stared at him blankly, I had much to look after and now being a leader was going to added on. He patted my shoulder and gave me a smile. His fatherly tone sank in, he had faith in me that I can indeed be up to task he was giving me.

"You'll do fine son"

He looked on back towards that hill. Smoke clouds now covered nearly every inch of it, pops of the distant fight could still heard from its direction. something looked like it was pulling towards it, like some sort of destiny that could not be ignored. I interjected, anything to keep my mind off of the previous subject. I told the captain that the troops need winter clothing if we're going to stay here for any number of days. The temperature was now starting to drop to below freezing, many of these guys are not use it this kind of environment and surely freeze to death.

"I'm working on it." He paused for a moment and looked back to the hill.

"If that keeps up for another week, we're going to be scheduled to take over. It's been hell going up there even with the whole brigade with armour and arty support. Stripes are dug in deep."

"The terrain and the weather are just a great help for us, sir" I said sardonically.

He chuckled and then everything became serious again. "If we do have to assault that hill, it won't be without having unacceptable casualties. You and your team will be vital in getting our ponies out of there when the stuff hits the fan."

"Roger, sir" I replied depressed.

"When was the last time you had a hot meal?"

The replacements arrived a day later. They were young, fresh faced kids who were just out of training and lucky enough to have their cold weather gear. They were more confused than scared though some were about our situation. They had trouble finding their sections leading to many getting lost and wandering too far towards the open. The zebras popped a few shots at them, fortunately none were killed that day. We laughed and kidded the replacements for being so unaware of their surroundings, some of the kinder veterans lent a hoof to get them situated and use their new life in the front. The rest didn't give them a second glance, they hadn't earned the respect and comradere that only combat brings. It was like they were living on a different planet but somehow together. They were green like many of us were, we had time to adapt and learn from our seniors and with the crucible of combat; learned to depend on each other. These new replacements would have to learn this on the job. Many would succeed, while many didn't, just like the rest of us.

When I met the new medics I was surprised that they were a little bit older than the rest. One of them was an E-4, specialist making him the superior rank. Since I was the veteran my input was taken seriously. They were all former MoP personnel who were either bored at their job or didn't sit right with not taking part in the war directly while others did. They should have stayed there where it was safe, but like all of us had our reasons why we choose to do what we do. They were already gifted in medicine as shown by their cutie mark or had worked hard in the various medical fields that the MoP offered them. 68W school isn't an easy job to grasp for most non medical ponies, we had to work hard and keep up with our studies which prepared us for the stresses that traumatic care so graciously gives us. I remember five ponies in class had to re-class because they couldn't pass any of the tests in the first phase.

Aquamarine and Bubblegum Blush were both former earth pony interns. Their bright coats would easily give them away to be easily spotted, being medics that was both a good and a bad thing. They seemed to match which was kinda cute, Aqua was pink and mint mane and tail while Bubblegum was mint and pink maned. Specialist Skeedadle was a lot more subtler with a bluish grey coat and the only unicorn of the team. They were all clean, compared to the rest of the company including myself, we were filthy, our uniforms were stained from the sweat, mud and blood. Our manes and tails had grown into a thick tangled mess caked in rifle oil, dirt and all sorts of things they got caught in. Even during our breaks in the rear, we hadn't gotten much chance to hygiene ourselves because the water supply was slow. The rain had been the best hope to get cleaned but as the days drew closer to winter, it was getting colder and the rain became snow. We weren't allowed to light a fire to help dry our fatigues. Even at the rear echelon, it was still close enough for artillery to be walked over to us. To the replacements, we were a raggedy, smelly, unkempt bunch of scary war ponies. Nothing at all like on the home front propaganda posters and news reels where ponies were smiling and clean. Not here, we were making do while being miserable, many of us would shoot ourselves in the hoof if it meant a nice warm bath.

The new ponies were getting use to their new lives. One artillery bombardment taught them to keep their asses low and heads lower. Those that had came in with a head full of bravado were humbled instantly. The older ponies who were in longer kidded them mercilessly for their eagerness to kill a zebra when they themselves could easily be picked off here. Digging in with an e-tool suddenly became more important than the rifle.

Blood traces were now easier to spot on the white surface of the steady snow fall. A pony had blood in his urine and I made him go back to battalion hospital to get it out. Inversion hoof commonly known as trench hoof was a priority search to make sure the soldiers under our care were taking care of themselves in the cold and damp conditions. As I was out another barrage from the hill zeroed in on us. There was no fog and the trees around us were now sparse to use for any cover other the shell holes and dugouts we could find. When it was over and time had past for an all clear I made my rounds and found Jazz comforting Daisy in a hole, she had lost a cutie mark before and now a close friend right in front of her. After what she's been through, she had cracked. By their hole was a splash of blood, no sign of a body left to recognise who it was.

"She was right there. I swear she was right there next to me." She sobbed in Jazz's embrace.

Ponies could only take so much before they shut down and crumble under the stress. There was little that could be done other than offer what little comfort can give. A life snuffed out before they could truly live out the rest of it, to live out their dreams, find love, a family, now gone like dust in the wind. There was one I could save. I dropped into the hole, and lent out my hoof to her. I was going to get her away from here and get her to the help she needed.

"No. No. I'll be just fine here." She said slowly waving my hoof away. She looked at me blankly, her eyes were blood shot and hallow. Streaks of grime on her face were washed away from her tears. I backed away slowly and nodded. After a long moment in silence, I gave her a wash cloth to clean her face, her dark yellow coat now visible and clear from the dirt and blood. I lit her a cigarette and I slowly got up and climbed out of the hole.

"Jazz make sure you two eat something" I said to them. He nodded his head and continued to stay with Daisy until she was able to gather herself up again.

After five days of watching the line, we were to rotate with the 91st and relieve them. It was now our turn up the hill, It was the day we were all dreading, I personally had not been up it yet but I have seen the affects of those who had. Death and suffering was what awaited for us but the only way to get out was right up to the summit. We packed up and squared away our gear and marched up into the abyss.

On the way we passed by the remnants of the unit we were to be replacing. They were a shadow of what was once then, it was the beginning of the siege all over again. The hollowed eyed, stiff faced and zombie like, the wary soldiers made their way down the hill. Companies looked like platoons, the platoons looked like squads, they staggered their way down with no enthusiasm to see us. We tried to get word on from the survivors on buddies that we knew, it was a knife to heart to learn that so many were accounted among the dead, uncertainty with those badly wounded on whether or not they could pull through.

"It's bad up there Hawk." A buddy from basic told me. He was being brought down on a litter. A bloody battle dressing covered what was left of his left hind leg. I lit him a smoke and he hoofed me his carbine.
"You're gonna need it buddy, I'm done. Do you think I can still work the farm like this? Docs can give me a prosthetic and I can be up again in no time. Right?"

Before I could answer, my buddy closed his eyes and never opened them again.